The use of humour in diplomatic tweets: The affiliative potential of ridicule

Introduction

The aim of this article is to explore the role of humour in international relations, particularly in diplomatic practices. More precisely, it will look at how tweets (and their predecessors, i.e. cartoons) relying on a special category of humour – ridicule – can make diplomatic interventions.

Being able to laugh is a special quality of humans, and some go as far as calling man a laughing animal (Billig, 2005: 7). Although humour can help build bridges – as a shared laugh may overcome previous misgivings between people – humour is highly culture and context specific, and may be offensive. As Dodds reminds us, not all people appreciate humour in the same way (Dodds, 2010: 119), or as Pickering and Lockyer put it, humour is ‘volatile’: what is funny at one time could be taken as offensive on another occasion (Pickering and Lockyer, 2005: 9). This offence may be intentional, but it might also originate in a misunderstanding, which may be because either party grasps incorrectly how the other understood the intervention. Still, ridicule and sarcasm are a special type of humour. While they build on irony – which can be defined as a humorous, often sardonic intervention often expressing a message by exaggeration or saying the exact opposite of what they actually mean – ridicule and sarcasm tend to be aggressive, which is not necessarily so in the case of irony. ¹ They frequently involve mockery, which makes them particularly prone to offend. ² Yet sarcasm is not ridicule. What further differentiates ridicule from sarcasm is that the latter is not only an exchange between two actors bantering among themselves (something that diplomats and statesmen do as much as anybody else), but it is always in front of an audience witnessing the situation and the other’s embarrassment. ³ From this, it may be concluded that ridicule is highly inappropriate in diplomatic interactions. Nevertheless, in this article I am asking whether ridicule in tweets and political cartoons can have its merits that makes it appropriate in some diplomatic interventions by not antagonizing parties but bringing them closer together.

Although humour is increasingly studied by International Relations (IR) scholars (see among others: Dodds and Kirby, 2013; Kuusisto, 2009; Nissen and Tsinovoi, 2018; Ridanpää, 2009; Särmä, 2015; Waller, 2007), little has been written about the role of ridicule. ⁴ To my knowledge, there are three exceptions. First, Waller argues that ridicule is an underappreciated weapon that should be used more frequently for fighting one’s enemies, for example, terrorists (Waller, 2007: 109). Second, a recent article by Nissen and Tsinovo makes insightful connections between humour and misrecognition. Still, their case study of Israel confirms the offensive power of ridicule, because once the short videos they discuss reached foreign others, they alienated them, and in their words ‘added fuel to the fire’ (Nissen and Tsinovoi, 2018: 19). The third is Ridanpää’s article focusing on the problem of the freedom of speech and self-censorship in Finland apropos of cartoons ridiculing Muslims and Finnish politics. His argument is important for us, as he suggests that the destructive and affiliative capacities of humour are frequently intertwined (Ridanpää, 2009: 746).

The objective of this article is to scrutinize the affiliative capacities of humour. I will argue first that, counterintuitively, even though arrogance and aggression are characteristic of ridicule, at times ridicule can form bonds and may play a conciliatory role. Second, I will point out that although humour (including ridicule) is easy to misunderstand (especially in cross-cultural settings), its inherent ambiguity offers the speaker the opportunity to express multi-layered messages – to combine, for example, threats with teasing and friendly ribbing – and thereby rely on what is frequently called ‘constructive ambiguity’, the merits of which have already been highlighted for diplomatic conduct.

The article proceeds in the following steps. After a section on humour and ridicule in diplomacy, it will discuss the problem of brevity (the inherent problems of interventions characteristic both of tweets and jokes); next, a short discussion of the conciliatory capacity of humour will follow. Subsequently, two case studies will analyse the role of ridicule in diplomatic interactions. In selecting the cases, I looked for examples in which the parties were equal. (In the US–UK relationship, this equality is inherent in the special relationship, especially in the early 20th century; and in the Russia–West relationship, there is nostalgia on the part of Russia for the equality that characterized US(West)–CCCP relations during Cold War times.) This is crucial. Since good humour always punches up and not down, seeking affiliative aspects in a case where the utterance was made from a superior power position would be pointless. Such utterances from the position of power will almost invariably offend and express a lack of recognition. Furthermore, the cases also fulfil the criteria suggested by Hansen for selecting comics for analysis, namely impact, circulation, critical tone, scholarly legitimacy, being outliers to customary usage, peculiarity of style and, most importantly, the contribution of their analysis to IR theorizing (Hansen, 2017: 591). The cases cited are clearly not marginal – i.e. both the US–UK and the Russia–West relations are crucial for IR – while they are hardly trivial (i.e. they call for scrutiny of how cartoons and tweets in the given cases made diplomatic interventions); at the same time they offer the opportunity to advance theorizing on the role of humour in diplomatic conduct, particularly in public diplomacy where diplomacy takes place in front of an audience of foreign public(s).

The first case study will discuss British cartoons from the early 20th century that ridiculed President Wilson for his reluctance to join the war along with Britain. Beyond what is stated above, it is worthwhile to cite this case not only because cartoons can be seen as predecessors of today’s tweets, ⁵ but also because they were extremely influential and were even circulated at the time – similarly to re-tweeting today (Demm, 2016). This first case shows that ridicule does not necessarily have the intention to antagonize the other, as Britain wanted the US to join the war on its side. Ridicule was addressed at the Wilsonian neutrality and resonated with voices in the US for joining the war that found Wilson’s position contemptible.

It should be emphasized that the analysis of humour, political cartoons and tweets raises methodological difficulties, foremost concerning the interpretation of their meaning and effect. When can we claim that a tweet relying on ridicule was affiliative, or that it had an affiliative aspect? Should this be dependent upon the intention of the creator of the tweets? Or does this depend on their reception, that is, checking if the audience understood them as funny and took them as friendly ribbing? ⁶ If the creator of a cartoon ‘meets’ the audience, the cartoon/tweet could work. Yet if the audience does not get the message, can we simply say that it was a ‘bad joke’; and if the audience gets offended should we declare that it was offensive (even if the creator had benign intentions)? What complicates this issue is the assumption that any utterance has one correct interpretation, when in fact diplomacy at times relies on double-talk and ambiguity. Kissinger coined the term ‘constructive ambiguity’ to suggest that ambiguity can be useful in diplomatic manoeuvring (Berridge et al., 2012: 73). Why should we assume that a diplomatic tweet is any different?

In the case study of the Skripal tweets, I will quote reactions from the press, experts and comments from individuals. The reactions show great variance: some find the tweets offensive and inconsiderate, while others find them witty. Can we say that one of these interpretations was the correct understanding of the tweets? I will argue that this would miss the mark, because these tweets can have various interpretations. While relying on ridicule comes at the danger that one could be misunderstood, it offers the opportunity to convey multi-layered messages, given the intrinsic contingency and volatility of humour, in addition to the option of later toning down a misfired intervention, by claiming that it was ‘just a joke’ after all.

In interpreting the Skripal case, I will argue that by tweets building on ridicule, Russian diplomacy may not have only been trolling (see an excellent article by Kurowska and Reshetnikov, 2018) but may also have expressed that although Russia is misunderstood by the West, it clearly understands the ‘game the West is playing’. The tweets could be read as calls for a sort of complicity and respect between Russia and the West that characterized their relations during the later years of the Cold War, while the way they are put certainly has a threatening undertone. Still, the case demonstrates that despite the inherent arrogance and aggression of ridicule, it may also have a conciliatory reading. While I cannot claim with certainty that the creator of these tweets necessarily had a placatory intention, I believe I can convincingly argue by contextualizing the tweets discussing Russia’s subject position that this is a plausible interpretation.

Contingency of jokes and diplomacy

Humour is a form of communication with a high level of contingency, as there is always considerable uncertainty as to whether a message is received the way intended. The same joke may work on one occasion but could totally misfire on another. This contingency and volatility of humour is partly rooted in the fact that jokes work by omission. For a joke to have an impact, it must be brief, condensed, and it cannot include an explanation, as by explaining a joke it loses its rhetorical power. This means that when making a joke, we must always assume that the target audience possesses the necessary background knowledge to ‘fill in the gaps’ and understand why the utterance is funny, why it is not fitting the particular situation, and what is paradoxical or absurd that should make us smile. Dougherty in his article on the use of cartoons in the classroom points out that for the audience ‘to get’ a political cartoon, they should be familiar with the historical background, with current events and the cultural and political symbols used (Dougherty, 2002). ⁷ Yet this is frequently missing in cross-cultural settings. For example, in February 2015, the French satirical magazine Fluide Glacial published an issue entitled: Péril Jaune (Yellow Peril) ridiculing fears about Chinese immigration into France. This message, however, was lost in translation when it reached the Chinese paper The Global Times, that did not get the ironic way Fluide Glacial tried to make its point and harshly criticized the French paper France 24 (2015).

The need that the audience should have the background would suggest that diplomatic actors avoid cracking jokes in their interactions. Yet this is far from the case, because if a joke works, it has enormous rhetorical power. It raises attention, is memorable, and may highlight an important message by hitting the nail on the head. If it works, it may enhance the reputation of the speaker as witty and intelligent. However, if it does not work, the speaker may look dumb and inconsiderate. When Boris Johnson said in front of foreign ambassadors that ‘We have invaded, defeated or conquered most of your countries, but we are here as friends’ (Fletcher, 2017), the joke was probably intended only as friendly ribbing, nevertheless it misfired. ⁸ The latter may easily happen if the person the joke was addressed to feels that the other speaks from a position of superiority. Nevertheless, jokes may be used for expressing messages that would otherwise be too blunt or harsh. When France’s EU Minister Nathalie Loiseau ridiculed Britain by saying that she had named her cat Brexit because of the cat’s indecisiveness to go to the garden once the door was opened following its meowing (Mukherjee, 2019), the joke suggested Europe’s frustration and perhaps anger with the way the UK was managing Brexit. It was probably a hard critique, but because of using a joke the exact status of the claim remained unclear. Was it intended as an outright offence? Or was it just teasing? This lack of clarity about the illocutionary component of jokes makes them helpful in saying things that, if not ‘packaged’, would be too sharp or offensive.

Also, given the contingency of jokes, it sometimes remains unclear if the speaker was ridiculing themself or the other. For example, when Jean-Claude Junker slapped Hungary’s Prime Minister Viktor Orban on the face, saying ‘here comes the dictator’, may have alternative readings. Was Junker ridiculing Orban and thereby offending him? Or was it mainly self-irony – i.e. ‘Alas, here comes a dictator but we, the EU, are totally unable to act against him, as he is manipulating the rules of the game so well? We Europeans look ridiculous standing by him’. He could have meant either, or both, or was only recognizing that something absurd was going on.

If the joke ‘does not work’, parties can try to ignore the awkward situation, but it might also happen that the two parties blame each other. The listener might claim that the speaker’s joke was bad, while the speaker may claim that the listener simply ‘did not get it’, it was not ‘meant’ as an offence, and may even ridicule the listener for being slow on the uptake, ⁹ for not being laidback enough, or for unnecessarily overreacting. The point is that if the joke fails, either party can argue their own superiority, thereby straining their relations. Even if the listener just stands frozen, the atmosphere will hardly be conducive to moving forward. It is by recognizing the difficulty and dangers of using humour in cross-cultural settings that Chair of the British Foreign Affairs Committee Tom Tugendhat explained why serious diplomats rarely apply it (cited in Landale, 2018).

Tweets and the problem of brevity

The formalized interaction and etiquette associated with classic diplomacy may at times seem absurd and bizarre. Nevertheless, it fulfils the purpose of reducing the dangers of misunderstanding, wherein any of the parties might be offended by mistake, feel looked down upon or misrecognized. Yet modern media have radically transformed diplomatic conduct, especially public diplomacy (Pamment, 2014). While social media reaches wide audiences and offers the impression of directly talking to the people, it typically relies on brief messages and comments. This invites short and sharp humorous interventions to convey messages, because in a tweet of 280 characters there is no place for subtleties or careful explanation and argumentation. Such short interventions not only neglect any form of etiquette or formality, but also feature condensed statements that highlight one issue: they underline a paradox in a witty comment or a lucid cartoon, but are hardly capable of nuanced analysis.

The most influential twitter user among politicians is undoubtedly President Trump, with over 50 million followers (with Pope Francis being the second, see: Lüfkens, 2018). Although his target audience is mostly US citizens, all his tweets immediately turn global. Xinhua, the Chinese news agency, criticized the President’s tweet diplomacy, pointing out that diplomatic issues are frequently complex and ‘foreign policy isn’t child’s play, and even less is it like doing business deals’ (Buckley, 2017). Diplomatic dilemmas can rarely be summed up in one line or resolved with a joke. Russia’s Deputy Prime Minister ridiculed President Trump’s tweets, saying that ‘We cannot depend on the mood of someone on the other side of the ocean when he wakes up’ (CNN, 2018). Although Aldous Huxley was not discussing diplomacy, his words about the brevity of wit and humour highlight brilliantly the pros and cons:

The soul of wit may become the very body of untruth. However elegant and memorable, brevity can never, in the nature of things, do justice to all the facts of a complex situation. On such a theme one can be brief only by omission and simplification. Omission and simplification help us to understand – but help us, in many cases, to understand the wrong thing (Huxley, 2005).

Despite dangers of misunderstanding, tweets (and other forms of social media) offer numerous advantages. While former diplomacy relied on professionals pre-screening, protocol and filtering of messages, with social media politicians can circumvent the bureaucratic process and instantaneously share their ideas with their followers. Furthermore, it has a network effect linking individuals (Wang, 2019).This has an enormous benefit for humorous interventions: humour, as Gordon explains, is fundamentally a social experience (Gordon, 2012: 66), and re-tweeting shares the fun. Also, relying on social media allows politicians to directly access citizens and foreign publics, turning diplomacy into a public performance. Duncombe in her 2017 article discusses the example where Iran used twitter to signal its intention of improving relations with the US (Duncombe, 2017). Nevertheless, twitter is frequently used for targeting specific individuals and ‘trolling’, i.e. including inflammatory messages (Duncombe, 2019: 409).

Humour, aggression and conciliation

If we try to capture the nature and social ramifications of laughter, we can go back in time to Plato. Plato suggests that humour is always associated with aggression and that laughter originates in malice (Martin, 2010: 44). This understanding of laughter is promoted by superiority theorists. It emphasizes that telling jokes is not necessarily a benevolent activity (see Billig’s important study on the crucial disciplinary function of humour: Billig, 2005), as humour, particularly ridicule, may be purposefully aggressive and may aim at hurting others, and even at undermining their social standing. Yet not all humour is aggressive, even if it relies on irony or ridicule. Researchers have found that, surprisingly – at least in an experiment in a school setting – a cartoon relying on ridicule motivated students’ performance more than either insulting words or gentle reminders (Janes and Olson, 2010: 53). Also, a well-weighted remark may not only point out the absurdity of a situation, but may also provide the means to relieve tension and offer the opportunity to disregard and brush aside an embarrassing situation otherwise difficult to overcome. An example from the diplomatic setting could be when Nikita Khrushchev in the 1960s expressed his discontent by shouting in the UN (the story made up afterwards adds that he was hitting the table with his shoe) while British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan was addressing the floor. Macmillan remained calm and simply said: ‘I’d like that translated, please, if you will’ (Dobbs, 2009: 214). Here Macmillan managed to elegantly ignore the offence and, at the same time, highlight the absurdity and inappropriateness of Khrushchev’s behaviour. By not losing his composure and finding a clever remark, Macmillan also made Khrushchev’s behaviour look ridiculous.

Humour here plays a similar role as in Mark Salter’s study of everyday interactions between security personnel and citizens at airport security checks, with humour opening ‘the possibility of questioning’. It adds an element of indeterminacy to a situation, thus changing the nature of relations between the parties involved. Whereas in the case of Macmillan, humour offered a way to ignore verbal aggression, in the interaction at the border it offers a way out of the rigid relations created by the securitized site of the border-check (Salter, 2011). In both examples, humour offers the means to change the atmosphere and to decrease the distance between the parties involved. Of course, we do not know if Khrushchev was offended by this remark and preserved grievances towards Macmillan. Still, Macmillan’s intervention at that moment created what Koestler identified as a ‘bisociative shock’ (Koestler, 1964: 91), that is, an absurd intervention that transformed and re-contextualized the situation, enabling the session to continue by putting into parentheses Khrushchev’s arrogant behaviour. Sclavi offers the following joke to illustrate how bisociation works and forces participants to realize that unless they are willing to approach the situation differently and make concessions, their conflict is irreconcilable:

Two litigants bring their case before a judge who listens carefully to the first litigant before delivering his verdict: “You are right.” He then listens to the second with equal care and pronounces: “You are right.” But a member of the audience stands up and asks, “Your honor, how can they both be right?” The judge pauses for a moment before responding, “And you too are right.” (Sclavi, 2008: 159).

Theoreticians of humour have underlined humour’s role in dealing with conflict situations where participants’ understandings collide and contradict each other (Martin, 2010: 115 – referring extensively to Mulkay), and emphasize its ability to perform a mediating role by breaking the conflict cycle parties are stuck in unless they adjust their practices (Zelizer, 2010: 4).

Relief theory emphasizes the power of laughter in releasing tension. While it definitely works for the one who is laughing, it may also help the two parties overcome difficult moments. Even irony can create social bonding, for example, between friends teasing one another (Grabosky, 2016: 378). Thus, although ridicule is mostly about demeaning the other, it can sometimes have an affiliative aspect. The problem is that the two are sometimes extremely difficult to distinguish (Janes and Olson, 2010: 55). Discussing the various aspects of ridicule, Sherman points out that ridicule can come in many guises. It may range from gloating (when it is clearly demeaning); self-effacing; jockeying (meaning a skilful and witty use of words to manoeuvre between various meanings, which is the most relevant form for our argument); to speaking truth to power (Sherman, 2018). It can offer a way for the under-dog to challenge the one who is in an otherwise superior position. ¹⁰

The old truism that good humour punches up not down grasps the idea that the relative position of the parties involved is essential. Discussing the aesthetics of humour, Gordon argues that humour resembles art. Aesthetic humour offers social criticism and for it to be ‘good-humour’, it must avoid the intention to humiliate. It should not be self-serving or made at others’ expense. Thus, a sexist or racist joke would be deplorable for seeking gratification in increased self-esteem by humiliating the ‘victims’ of the joke. For being aesthetic, the joke should invite self-critique to re-evaluate oneself or the situation and should aim to emancipate (Gordon, 2012). But does this mean that aggressive and offensive humour cannot be aesthetic? Probably to the extent that it involves ridiculing the one in superior position, laughing at power, even humiliating those exercising their authority inconsiderately, may be aesthetic. Yet style and wit matter, because without them the one making the joke is little different from the one laughed at. For the subversive capacity of humour and ridicule to work, the one making the utterance should excel over their addressee by the eloquence, wit, imagination or talent reflected in the joke. The key is whether the joke overcomes prejudices and if it helps to ‘see the situation in a better moral light’ (Gaut, 1998: 65). If the joke only divides and increases the differentiation between self and other by aggravating their relations, it is a bad joke without conciliatory capacities.

Cartoons – the tweets of 100 years ago

Although it was the increase of diplomatic tweets that has inspired this article, in the first case study the focus is on cartoons from the early 20th century. The reason for this is twofold. First, cartoons are structurally very similar to tweets. Second, cartoons of the time were very influential and were circulated a bit like re-tweeting works today. George Creel, Head of the Committee on Public Information created by President Wilson in 1917, praised cartoonists for their efficiency in informing the public, saying: ‘The world is much too busy to stop and listen to the orators, or even read all the story of the war [. . .] but your appeal is irresistible’ (quoted in Demm, 2019: 78). Ironically, the political cartoons I will discuss below were targeted at Wilson.

The section will focus on British cartoons ridiculing President Wilson and the hesitance of the US to join World War I to fight Germany alongside Britain. As the War broke out on the continent, the British cut the transatlantic telegram cables to control information reaching the US (Corera, 2017), while Britain also conducted an active propaganda campaign to influence American public opinion. In 1914 Wellington House was established (the common name for Britain’s War Propaganda Bureau), producing millions of leaflets, images, and pamphlets at home and for the US (Altenhöner, 2017). These also included cartoons, among which by far the most influential ones were the Raemaekers cartoons depicting the horrors Germany caused the innocent (the typical images that appeared in every belligerent country) (Demm, 2016). Yet there were also cartoons focusing on US politics and targeting Wilson and his reluctance to join the War.

At the beginning of the War, President Wilson was strongly committed to neutrality, believing that the US could only preserve its moral authority and mediate a compromised peace if it stayed out of the conflict (Tucker, 2007: 8). At the start of the War, the British did not expect more from the Americans than their sympathies and moral support. As the British Ambassador suggested, it was fortunate that at least part of the world kept itself out of the War (Rappaport, 1951: 11). Yet following the invasion of Belgium and the advancement of German forces, the British were increasingly calling on Americans to support them, while the British press launched a campaign to make Americans condemn German actions (Rappaport, 1951: 12). Subsequent British propaganda played a crucial role in steering American opinion. As Peterson argued: ‘. . .American newspapers of those years should be viewed not as a mirror reflecting American reactions to the war, but as the principal medium through which the British influenced the Americans’ (Peterson, 1939: 159). The British expected the US to help, were repulsed by Wilson’s neutrality, and vociferously called for active US involvement in the War. They ridiculed Wilson’s hesitance to join the war, but they talked not only to Wilson but also to the American public. Many Americans disagreed with the policy of neutrality and agreed with the message of the cartoons.

Cartoons played an important role in the media on both sides of the Atlantic, offering condensed and ironic short statements about political affairs. Criticism of Wilson increasingly intensified, with Americans becoming victims of Germany’s unrestricted submarine war, especially after the sinking of the Lusitania on 7 May 1915, for sending only condemning notes to Germany (on 13 May, 9 June, and 21 May 1915). ¹¹ The British magazine Punch published cartoons one after the other ridiculing Wilson’s policies. In September 1915, for example, a cartoon depicted Wilson talking to the American Eagle saying: ‘Gee! What a dove I’ve made of you!’ (Punch, 8 Sept 1915). ¹² The Lusitania’s sinking was followed by further incidents. On 19 August the Arabic was sunk, ¹³ and the Ancona was torpedoed on 8 November 1915 (by a U-boat under the flag of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy), ¹⁴ leading to a protest by Secretary of State Robert Lansing with Wilson’s approval. British cartoons continued to ridicule the US for reacting by sending only condemning notes. For example, the Punch cartoon carried the title A Matter of Routine (Punch, 17 November 1915), with President Wilson saying in the caption ‘This calls for a note – Mr. Secretary just bring me in a copy of our no.1. note to Germany –“humanity” series’. ¹⁵

While defusing the effect of the sinking of the Lusitania reinforced for many Wilson’s image as a peacemaker, it also triggered strong objections among its critics (Trommler, 2009). Roosevelt said the following very emotional words:

To sink a hundred American men and women. . .was an evil thing; but it was not quite as evil and it was nothing like as contemptible as for this nation to rest satisfied with governmental notes of protest couched in elegant English, and with vaguely implied threats which were not carried out (Roosevelt quoted in Trommler, 2009: 24),

suggesting that it was a shame that the US was not fighting on the side of Britain.

In November 1916, Wilson was re-elected president on the promise to keep the country out of the War. The fact that he was campaigning for neutrality was ridiculed in British cartoons. Punch published a cartoon with Wilson saying on the phone: ‘What’s that? U-boat blockading New York? Tut! Tut! Very inopportune!’ with a poster in the background saying: ‘Vote for Wilson who kept you out of war’ (Punch 18 October 1916). ¹⁶ There were similar images in the American press criticizing the President’s stance on neutrality. For example, on 16 August 1915, the Washington Evening Star featured Uncle Sam sending a letter to Austria with the title: ‘Uncle Sam’s Busy Diplomatic Days’ by cartoonist Clifford Berryman. ¹⁷

Not long after the 1916 elections, Wilson’s policy shifted, and the US joined the war effort. Once this took place, however, and war broke out, not only did diplomatic relations come to a halt with Germany (taking a new dimension with Britain), but also US domestic politics became dominated by the war effort, with dissent and critical comments persecuted in the US (a part of the story that is beyond the purview of this article). ¹⁸

The obvious question is what Eberhard Demm asks: how influential were cartoons as a medium for propaganda at the time of WWI? Demm argues that cartoons were extremely popular and were frequently copied, pasted and even re-used – at times even in a modified form, frequently giving credit to the original cartoonist (Demm, 2016). Thus, it could be argued that they were in a way ‘re-tweeted’ by those who liked them. In evaluating the importance of British propaganda, Peterson goes so far as to claim that it was not so much ideas about peace, liberty or the right of small nations that made the US join the war, but the success of British propaganda (Peterson, 1939: 326).

Undoubtedly, this case between the US and Britain is special, as at that time no similar proximity and intense flow of information linked any other two countries. The historical closeness between Britain and the US created a context where cartoons relying on ridicule could be read as friendly ribbing. Clearly, this reading is more difficult if the comments are made between parties with a history of more hostile relations. Context is decisive for jokes to work.

The Russian Embassy in the UK – tweets

In the second short case study, the focus is on the way the Russian Embassy in London reacted by tweets to the 2018 expulsion of 23 Russian diplomats by the British Government suspecting the Russians of poisoning an ex-Russian agent living in Britain.

The background of the case in a nutshell: Sergei Skripal, a former Russian intelligence officer living in the UK, was attacked by a nerve agent and poisoned near his home in Salisbury. The British suspected Russia’s involvement in the attack and decided to expel 23 Russian diplomats from the UK. The official response to the British decision by the Russian Embassy was laconic and formal, condemning the decision. At the same time, however, the Russian Embassy also produced and published a line of tweets offering a witty response to the British Government’s decision. The tweets were accompanied by images. One of the tweets featured an image of a thermometer in the background of ice and snow, indicating that it was well below the freezing point. The tweet under the image stated: ‘The temperature of Russian/British relations drops to −23, but we are not afraid of cold weather’. ¹⁹ Another tweet had the picture of 007 (the British secret agent in the James Bond movie series), and the tweet under the image read: ‘Does Russia’s dialling code 007 make James Bond a Russian spy?’ (with a small emoticon of a guy in a grey coat, hat and sunglasses added). Both tweets were ridiculing the British decision, reflecting on Russia’s relations with the West and the UK, conveying complex messages on various layers. Many regarded the Russian tweets as offensive. The headlines of articles published in the British press clearly reflect this. For example, The Sun’s article by saying: ‘Moscow Fools, Sick Russians mock Britain by turning spy poison attack into a big joke – despite hundreds fearing deadly infection’; ²⁰ and The Guardian wrote: ‘Twitter diplomacy: how Russian embassy trolls UK government’. ²¹ Yet experts on diplomacy gave a somewhat different interpretation. Paul Sharp wrote on the Russian Embassy’s use of social media: ‘the Russian embassy in London skilfully employed humour on social media, first to ridicule Britain’s accusations, and then to feed the cynical attitude that Britain was being hypocritical in a world where everyone engages in this sort of activity’ (Sharp, 2019: 70), praising the use of humour, while condemning the act of Russian agents for putting the British public at risk. Ilan Manor, another expert working on diplomacy, highlighted that these tweets not only ‘poke at the British government’, but they are a form of brand making and they offer the means to reach an enlarged audience (Manor, 2019). And indeed, such tweets seem to have an impact, as the Embassy has more followers than that of any other G20 country in the UK (Belam, 2018). ²²

Which of these is the correct interpretation, and what exactly was the original meaning? My suggestion is that this question misses the point, because what these tweets demonstrate is that humorous interventions relying on irony and ridicule can express a multitude of overlapping parallel messages. The tweets poke at the British, but at the same time, they try to get over the incident and improve relations, although they also have a threatening undertone. They could be taken as examples of constructive ambiguity; that is, as utterances that are balancing between offence, teasing, expression of frustration and even self-irony. Humorous interventions relying on irony and ridicule are particularly fitting for such ambiguous interventions, as Ridanpää highlights apropos of irony; irony allows someone to be ‘aggressive in a seemingly unaggressive way’ (Ridanpää, 2009: 733–734).

For interpreting the tweets, it is important to highlight the subject position from which they were published. During the Cold War, the Soviet Union competed with the West, and was recognized as equal because of being one of the superpowers of the bi-polar order. Since the end of the Cold War, however, the USSR has fallen apart, and Russia’s prestige and standing have dwindled. Not only is the country no longer regarded as the great power it used to be, but many Russians feel (whether correctly or not is irrelevant here) that Russia is misunderstood by the West, ²³ it is being misrepresented (Parogni, 2015), continuously mentored ²⁴ and even betrayed by not receiving the recognition it deserves. ²⁵

Because of this context, it is important that the first tweet, with the thermometer, suggests that Russia is not weak and it cannot be intimidated, while the image with the text also emphasizes that Russia with its capabilities and endurance is misperceived. If the latter message had been conveyed directly, it would immediately have sounded threatening. Yet, humour takes some of the edge off the statement. It remains threatening, but humour adds a conciliatory undertone, which is reinforced by the second tweet referring to James Bond. By picking James Bond as a template for the tweet, the speaker taps into the legacy of the James Bond series. ²⁶ Although the series had started at the height of the Cold War, with Soviet agents challenging James Bond (although even at that time there was no outright enmity between Soviet and British agents in the movies), with détente it gradually evolved into a sort of complicity. That is, although they were competing, they frequently faced a common enemy. ²⁷ Thus, James Bond refers to a time when the Soviet Union received its due respect and recognition. Humour allows reference to this, to call for this recognition today, but at the same time, also adds a touch of warning that Russia would stand up to any challenge. Humour allows packaging of this threat in such a way as to soften its offensiveness.

Also, it is possible to read into these tweets a call for not regarding the Skripal case as a major issue, with humour offering the means to belittle the significance of the case. This resonates with Putin’s claims made elsewhere: ‘Listen, all this fuss about spies and counterspies, it is not worth serious interstate relations. This [Skripal] spy story, as we say, it is not worth five kopeks. Or even £5, for that matter’. ²⁸ The tweets can be read to express the desire to get over the issue and to overcome the rupture in relations, just like in the joke quoted above with the judge and the two litigants. The point is not who is right, but to overcome the conflict and to start to work on improving relations. ²⁹ Irrespective of whether the audience was receptive of the joke (many disliked it; in their case, it only poured oil on fire), the tweets had a bisociative potential. But for humour to work positively – and to fulfil its affiliative potential – it is necessary for both the speaker and the audience to understand it this way and to act accordingly in the future. ³⁰

These tweets are not the only example of Russian diplomacy relying on irony and ridicule in its diplomatic messages. The second example, below, appeared on Facebook. After allegations that Russia had interfered with the US election, as an April Fools’ Day joke, the Russian Foreign Ministry wrote on its Facebook page that it had set up an automated phone service where ‘hacking’ and ‘election interference’ services could be requested:

You have reached the Russian Embassy, your call is very important to us. To arrange a call from a Russian diplomat to your political opponent, press 1. . .to use the services of Russian hackers, press 2. To request election interference, press 3 and wait until the next election campaign (quoted in Seipel, 2017).

Similarly to the Skripal tweets, the joke does not explicitly deny the allegations, but by ridiculing them implies that it is absurd to make such claims in the first place. Yet, here ambiguity inherent in jokes also plays a role. The twist implies that one could never know for sure if perhaps Russia was actually involved in the scandals. This can again be translated as having a threatening undertone, meaning that Russia, if needed, is willing to rely on such means, so it is better to take Russia seriously and recognize its capabilities.

Nevertheless, humour allows a call for recognition not only on this ‘material’ level. As discussed before, humour can bring parties together regardless of their power relations because it works on a different registry. Both the tweets and the Facebook message on April Fools’ Day suggest that Russia is ‘aware of what is going on’, and it can even make fun of the events in a witty manner. In this case, although ridicule could be read as conveying a touch of superiority, probably it is more for demonstrating how knowledgeable and eloquent Russia is in playing this diplomatic game. Russia may be somewhat different, it is not like the West; nevertheless, it should be recognized as an equal on its own right, as a respectable partner/adversary, because it knows how to ‘play the game’ – as its use of humour and wit demonstrates. Having a good sense of humour requires skills and a deep understanding of what is going on. Possessing these qualities creates a link that connects, and even creates a form of equality. ³¹

Conclusion

Diplomatic interactions, particularly public diplomacy, increasingly rely on social media – with twitter being the preferred social media of diplomats (Duncombe, 2019: 411). The aim of this article has been to study the role of humour, particularly ridicule, in diplomatic conduct. Yet, given that ridicule is predominantly associated with aggression and offence, the aim has been – somewhat counterintuitively – to scrutinize instances when ridicule was used with a conciliatory undertone (or more precisely, when such an interpretation was plausible); and to identify the possible benefits of brief albeit witty interventions in diplomatic conduct, which are typical of tweets. ³² With brief messages accompanied by visuals gaining increasing significance in politics and international relations, the number of interventions relying on humour and irony gradually increases, as the succinct format is ideal for using humour in drawing attention. Although social media appears to be shifting diplomatic messages in this direction, I have highlighted that brief and humorous interventions into politics are not a true novelty, as a century ago cartoons functioned in a somewhat similar manner.

The first case study took the example of cartoons ridiculing President Wilson when Britain conducted an active propaganda campaign – including the use of cartoons – to encourage the US to join the First World War. The second case study scrutinized tweets by the Russian Embassy following the Skripal case, arguing that these tweets were extremely interesting because although they ridiculed, they were at the borderline of affiliative irony. By relying on humour, they managed to package multiple messages, ranging from an expression of frustration over being misunderstood, to calls to overlook the case and to make implicit threats. Also, by conveying these messages in a witty and elegant manner, they called on the West to properly recognize Russia; or at least I have suggested that, given the context and the historical background of these tweets, it is possible to interpret them in such a way.

Theoreticians of humour have underlined humour’s role in conflict mediation and its affiliative aspect. As Sclavi argues, humour enables us ‘to see with different eyes the things we do (or do not do) when we react to tensions and conflicts with a merely linear behaviour of defense–offense, and thus it offers opportunities for more creative conflict resolution’ (Sclavi, 2008: 169). Humorous interventions may enable parties to re-evaluate the situation – put aside irreconcilable issues – and to make a fresh start. Yet, for this to happen it is crucial for parties to regard each other as equals, because humour does not punch down. In the first case study, this equality was inherent in the special relationship between the US and the UK, while in the second case study equality was present in the form of nostalgia for Cold War times when Russia (the USSR) was regarded as the West’s equal – an equality Russia seeks to be granted again. Among equals irony and even ridicule can go down as friendly ribbing; yet for this, the side ridiculed needs to read it as such and take the joke as an opportunity to break the conflict cycle and to take a different approach to their relations and to the given conflict.

I have also pointed out that although contingency and volatility make humour easy to misunderstand, there are certain rhetorical benefits. Humour typically raises attention, and irony can add a touch of ambiguity to one’s statement, allowing it to balance between various potential interpretations. This may be beneficial in diplomatic interactions where relying on constructive ambiguity may offer numerous advantages.